What Would Happen If Jean Valjean Became Evil
by mushieroxx
Summary: title pretty much says it all. Jean Valjean hates the world that always hated him, so he decides to become evil with his best friend, Inspector Javert. It's my first story please Read and Review! Sorry I stink at summaries. The story is much better.
1. Parole Break

Alright! Here is my first story! What would happen if Jean Valjean became evil? This story is based on Les Miserables the PLAY, not the book. Each chapter will probably be a song, but if I choose to only do part of one I might do 2 songs in 1 chapter. So if you came here for an amazing story about Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, you are in the wrong spot. It is rated T for violence in later chapters. Don't worry, it won't be THAT gory. This story is actually a comedy and tragedy. Let's say I have a funny chapter, don't criticize me for it not being a tragedy. Same with if it's a tragic chapter. Don't be all "this story is so not funny" because maybe I didn't mean for it to be funny. Remember to read and review and flames are welcomed. Sorry for the long and ranting author's note. Enjoy the story!!!!

-Mushie

Chapter 1

The heavy metal chains tugged at his wrists and ankles as he was dragged in line by the police officer. His grubby rags hung over his thin, frail body and as he looked behind him he could see that some other prisoners had passed out and were literally getting dragged by their heavy chains. They each soon grabbed a pick axe and began chopping away at anything they could find. "Look down, look down, don't look 'em in the eye. Look down, look down, you're here until you die." They all sang in unison, hoping to make their terrible experience slightly less dreary. Obviously it didn't work, since the words of the song were so depressing. They should have been singing about castles on a cloud. So the prisoners were sill glum. Suddenly, one of the more daring comments decided to have a small solo portion of the song. "The sun is strong. It's hot as hell below." Soon people began to follow his lead and they began singing solos of their own. "Look down, look down. There's twenty years to go."

"I've done no wrong. Sweet Jesus hear my prayer."

"Look down, look down, sweet Jesus doesn't care."

"I know she'll wait! I know that she'll be true!" A few convicts "aww-ed" over this, but suddenly the sweet moment ended when some other grumpy convict sang.

"Look down, look down, they've all forgotten you." The sweet convict put down his pickaxe and went to a shady corner of the field to mope. He was obviously upset that his fellow convict was thinking that his wife wouldn't wait for him. Everyone watched him move to the corner but they immediately ignored him and began their musical number.

"When I get free you won't see me here for dust!" Suddenly the prisoners heard a quiet snap, and a scream that could make some bleed from the ears was heard soon after. "OHMYGOD! I THINK I BROKE A NAIL!!!" One of the prisoners yelled in a valley girl tone. The other prisoners stared at him in awe, then moved their gaze over to his pick axe, which had a tiny pinky nail dangling from it. "Anyway…" Someone said after he was done crying.

"Look down, look down. You'll always be a slave."

"Look down, look down. You're standing in your grave." After their song was over, most of the convicts continued their monotonous chopping with their pickaxes. That is except one convict. Jean Valjean was not like most convicts. He simply sat on the dirt under his feet to wait for his friend. Soon a shadow loomed over the field. It moved closer and closer to the convicts, who were now cowering with fear. Valjean calmly saw who was coming and a grin began to form on his face.

Inspector Javert was a cold man. He was about six feet tall with brown hair kept tidy in a ponytail and very long sideburns. His eyes glimmered like a snake's and his face was always frowning, that is, unless he was with the one individual who could actually melt his tough exterior.

"Javert!" Valjean smiled at his friend and skipped over to him to give him a "guy-hug". Valjean's right arm and Javert's left arms met in a high-five, then they each pulled each other toward each other and proceeded to slap the other man on the back with their remaining hand. Behold! The "guy-hug" was born!

"Master V!" Javert said to Valjean enthusiastically.

"J-Dog!" How you been doing?' Valjean exclaimed. "Everything's fine! You look…great!" Javert said after scanning Valjean's dirty and frail body.

"Thanks, buddy! So do you! Nice buttons!" Valjean said, examining Javert's impressive gold buttons around his shirt.

"Thanks! Well you should get back to chopping or I could lose my job.:

"Alright, J-Dog. See you around."

"See you, Master V." Javert said and he walked to a tree in the field and sat in the shade. He watched Valjean chopping various things with his pick axe and smiled, then turned to the other prisoners, who were giving him nervous glances, and frowned at them. He began to doze off in the cool shade when he glanced at his watch. It was time…for another musical number. You see, Javert was a big fan of musicals. He would often watch them with Valjean. Their favorite was Legally Blonde the musical because by the end they were both bursting into tears.

"Now bring me prisoner 24601. Your time is up and your parole's begun. Do you know what that means?" Javert sang in a voice that was meant to be stern. He couldn't help it, whenever he saw Jean Valjean he was just so happy!

"Yes it means I'm free." Valjean answered simply.

"You're right it does! I have a great idea!" Javert said to him happily.

"What's the idea, J-Dog?" Valjean asked.

"Let's break your parole! All we have to do is rip up your ticket!"

"You're a genius, J-Dog! Why didn't I think of that?" Valjean said, ripping up his ticket and stomping it into the ground.

"Master V, you are a free man, what will you do now?" Javert asked him.

"I'm getting a taco!"

"Not that! Isn't there something you want to do _more_?"

"You mean like world destruction?" Valjean asked Javert.

"Not just destruction, _domination_!" Javert informed him.

"I like the way you think, my friend."

"Thank you, Master V."

"Can we stop on the way to get a taco? We can even go through the drive through if you want." Valjean asked. Javert chuckled.

"Sure. I hear Muchacho's has a new El Grande taco. It's 6.4 pounds and if you eat it in less than an hour you get a free piñata!" Javert happily informed Valjean.

"I am SO there!" Valjean exclaimed excitedly.

After they went out for a taco, (Valjean ate the entire El Grande Taco, and he won a Jonas Brothers piñata.) Javert and Valjean began planning world domination.

"Alright, so we steal from the priest THEN push the cart?" Valjean asked, still holding his new piñata.

"Yep, unless we want to push the cart first." Javert suggested.

"No we need to steal from the priest first, because it's hard to think of a musical number for pushing a cart, so if we steal from the priest first we will have more time to get inspired." Valjean thought intelligently.

"Genius, Master V!"

"Thank you, J-Dog. Guy hug?"

"Obviously!" Javert replied and they performed another guy hug. So the two besties got into Javert's car and drove away, preparing to put their first sinister move into action.

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Did you like it? Please be honest in your comments, I'm always trying to improve! Anyways please review and you're allowed to flame.

~Mushie


	2. The crumpets

_Previously in What Would Happen If Jean Valjean Became Evil…_

"_Alright, so we steal from the priest THEN push the cart?" Valjean asked, still holding his new piñata._

"_Yep, unless we want to push the cart first." Javert suggested._

"_No we need to steal from the priest first, because it's hard to think of a musical number for pushing a cart, so if we steal from the priest first we will have more time to get inspired." Valjean thought intelligently._

"_Genius, Master V!"_

"_Thank you, J-Dog. Guy hug?"_

"_Obviously!" Javert replied and they performed another guy hug. So the two besties got into Javert's car and drove away, preparing to put their first sinister move into action._

Chapter Two

Valjean and Javert strode in step, Valjean's muddy sandals and Javert's glossy shoes perfectly in line with each step. "Alright, J-Dog, what's up first on our checklist?" Valjean asked the brains of the duo. "First, we pig out and steal from the priest. Then we push the cart." Javert answered matter-of-factly. "Genius!" Valjean exclaimed. "But I have to go at seven. I'm making a speech to accept my Muchacho's award." Valjean said. Javert chuckled. "Alright, Master V." Soon the two men approached the little cottage where the priest lived. Javert was about to knock on the door when Valjean interrupted him. "J-Dog! Your clothes!" Valjean exclaimed. Javert looked down at his spotless navy blue ensamble with his shiny gold buttons and his gloosy patent leather shoes. He thought that he looked spiffy and he didn't know what Valjean's problem was. Maybe he was jealous. Valjean just wanted a navy blue ensemble of his own. Suddenly Javert realized his problem; he was _too_ spiffy. The priest would never let him into his house thinking he was a beggar. Let's face it he was just too dashing. He wiggled his eyebrow and smiled. "Good call, Master V." Javert said. He walked to the nearest mud puddle and flopped it in it like a happy hippo. "Better?" He asked Valjean, mud in his mouth and nooks and crannies. "Perfect, now let's go." Valjean said to him, giving him the thumbs up. "Remember, let me do all the talking." Valjean said. "Alright." Javert replied. They walked up to his stoop and knocked on the brass knocker. The door creaked open and there stood the preist. He had long brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a cross around his neck and he had the Bible in his hand. He simply looked at the two dirty men and began to sing. "Come in sirs for you are weary, and the night is cold out there. Though our lives are very humble, what we have, we have to share. There is wine here to revive you. There is bread to make you strong. There's a bed to rest till morning. Rest from pain and rest from wrong." The priest sang peacefully, a calm smile showing up on his face. Valjean and Javert both looked confusedly at him, then Javert smiled. "Wow. We didn't even have to make him give us a song montage! He just did!" Javert whispered. Valjean giggled a little, making the priest look confusedly at him. They both walked inside and glanced around. There was a cozy fireplace with a little chair and homemade rug in the living room. There were cuckoo clocks everywhere and they rand at 10-minute intervals, which drove both of the men bonkers. "The Law would not be happy about this!" Javert would quietly complain. "Someone shoot 'em!" Valjean would mutter. There were about twenty pictures of the priest and his mother all along the walls. The priest walked into the kitchen to begin cooking and Valjean and Javert sat on the couch. Suddenly all of the men heard a yell from upstairs. "Hey, Eugene! Who are your widdle friends?" His mother called from upstairs. "Mo-o-m! Could you _please_ not embarrass me in front of the hobos!" The priest complained. "Hobos? That's so kind of you, Eugene! Give Mama some love!" She walked down the stairs and started pinching his cheeks. He swatted away. "Mom, I'm only doing what He would want me to do." Eugene answered modestly, looking up at the ceiling. "Bless you!" Eugene's mother exclaimed. She gave him a wet, slobbery kiss on the cheek, then walked up the stairs again. Meanwhile, Valjean and Javert were turning bright red in the face, trying to not explode with laughter. "Well…anyways…what do you guys want to eat?" Eugene asked, still a little embarrassed. "The Law should be served." Javert answered sternly. Valjean looked at him nervously. "I-I-I mean anything is fine…he…he…he…" He laughed nervously. "Um…I'll surprise you." The priest answered. He put on his light pink apron with green cupcakes on it. Both of the men were politely trying to contain their laughter, but at the sight of this they just burst out laughing. Valjean was red as a ripe tomato and he was pounding his fists and kicking in the air, Javert, on the other hand, fell off the couch and was rolling on the floor. "Guys…" The priest said. The two men were still howling like hyenas.. "GUYS!" Eugene yelled. Both men immediately stopped laughing ang got off the floor. "My mother made this for me. She said she doesn't want my 100% cotton clothes to get any splatters on them." At this remark, Valjean and Javert instantly started turning a light shade of pink. The priest rolled his eyes and ignored him, and he walked into the kitchen. "What a nub!" Valjean said. "You're right, Master V, that is TOTALLY against the law." Javert whispered to him. Both of them awkwardly glanced around the room. "The crumpets are ready!" Eugene called from the kitchen. "Hehehe…crumpets…" Valjean whispered to Javert as they entered the kitchen. Javert elbowed his side. "It is very not against the law." Javert complimented. "Hot food! I haven't had hot food in nineteen years!" Valjean squealed. Both of the men sat at the table. There was a lacey tablecloth covering the table and a bouquet of fresh wildflowers was in the middle of the table. There were even…napkin holders! Valjean bit into one of his warm crumpets. "Mmm…crumpet good!" He said, popping his second into his mouth. Javert was eating his neatly. Valjean glared at him and shoved one all over his face, getting only a few crumbs into his mouth. Javert picked up the subtle hint and began doing the same thing.

"I think you guys have had enough." Eugene said, reaching to take the tray away, risking losing his arm. Each of them men had two-dozen crumpets. Their faces were caked with butter and crumbs. They brushed some of the crumbs off their faces and got ready for bed. They walked up the creaky wooden stairs to their bedroom. Eugene walked in, holding pajamas for them, a small frown on his face. "Bad news, I only had one pair of extra pajamas, so one of you will have to have this." He held up a pink, lacey nightgorn. "I call nightgown!" Valjena exclaimed, and snatched the nightgown out of Eugene's hands. A few moments later, Javert was dressed in sharp looking Guitar Hero pajamas, while Valjean was busy twirling around in his nightgown. "I feel pretty, oh so pretty!" Valjean sang, a large smile on his face. "WOULD YOU CUT THAT OUT?" Javert yelled. "That is SO against the Law." Valjean frowned and laid on his bed. "Lights out!" Eugene called from the hallway. Javert neatly laid on his bed, keeping his sheets tidy. Valjean reached into his nightstand and pulled out a black book. He licked his fingertip and began turning the pages. He opened to the next blank page and took out a ballpoint pen. He sang as he wrote.

"Dear Diary,

He let me eat my share I had the lion's fill. I had the lions share. The silver in my hand cost twice what I had earned. In all those nineteen years- that lifetime of despair. And yet he trusted me. " Valjean sang. "Would you keep it down over there?" Javert yelled. "Sorry that I am manly enough to express my emotions!" Valjean retorted. He continued singing and writing, writing and singing.

"The old fool trusted me. He'd done his bit of good. I'd played the grateful serf and thanked him like I should." He turned the page and wailed. "PAPER CUT! PAPER CUT! CALL 9-1-1! EMERGENCY! PAPER CUT! OH MY GOSH IT'S SPEWING BLOOD!" Javert looked at Valjean and ignored him. He walked up, got a Band-Aid with Winnie The Pooh on it, and gave it to Valjean. "I wanted the Dora ones!" Valjean whined. Javert rolled his eyes and got one with Dora, Boots, and Backpack. 'Sometimes I question you, Master V." Valjean smiled and continued to write.

"But when the house was still, I got up in the night. Took the silver, took my flight!" Valjean sang the word flight extremely loud, so loud that if he had a microphone it would have exploded. Both of the men got up, their bag of silver in Javert's hand. Valjean kept tripping over his long, flowy nightgown. Javert ran down the stairs, while Valjean found it more amusing to slide down the banister. They were almost out the door when Valjean turned around and ran into the kitchen. He grabbed a warm tray of crumpets. "Oh come on!" Javert cried." I can't help it! They're crump-tastic!" Valjean exclaimed and ran out the door.

Did you like it? Sorry for not updating much and thanks so much for reviewing!

Mushie


	3. Taking Over The Factory

Previously in What Would Happen If Jean Valjean Became Evil …

"But when the house was still, I got up in the night. Took the silver, took my flight!" Valjean sang the word flight extremely loud, so loud that if he had a microphone it would have exploded. Both of the men got up, their bag of silver in Javert's hand. Valjean kept tripping over his long, flowy nightgown. Javert ran down the stairs, while Valjean found it more amusing to slide down the banister. They were almost out the door when Valjean turned around and ran into the kitchen. He grabbed a warm tray of crumpets. "Oh come on!" Javert cried." I can't help it! They're crump-tastic!" Valjean exclaimed and ran out the door.

Chapter Three

The silver gleamed in the sunlight of the afternoon. Jean Valjean kept waving his new candlestick to watch it glisten. Javert popped another crumpet in his mouth.

"Where do we go now?" Valjean asked as they were strolling away from the priest's house. "We have to sell the silver!" Javert explained, crumpet crumbs spewing from his mouth. "Then we become filthy rich and have various musicals and books made about us?"

"Exactly, Master V!" Javert chuckled. They approached the silversmith.

"Hey! How much can we get for this?" Javert asked him. "Hey, bro, I'd give you like, a thousand bucks for it. After all, it is pretty gnarly." He said in a surfer voice.

"One thousand two hundred." Javert bargained.

"One thousand one hundred, dude." The surfer-silversmith said.

"One thousand, one hundred and one." Valjean haggled. Javert cracked a smile.

"Deal." The silversmith said, high-fiving Valjean. The two men happily skipped away, clutching impressive wads of cash in their hands. "The Law gave us a good deal." Javert said, giving a curt nod.

When they were far away from the silversmith, Valjean stopped dead in his tracks. "What have I done, sweet Jesus what have I done?" he sang quietly. "You just made one thousand, one hundred dollars!" Javert said, patting him on the back.

"Oh yeah, I did, didn't I? Thanks for reminding me, J-Dog!" he said, skipping with Javert. Soon, they approached a factory. _One day this factory will be mine…MWAHAHAHAHA! _Valjean thought in his own little world. He nonchalantly strutted up to the owner. Javert tied him down and Valjean knocked him out. "That was easy!" he said happily, pressing his conveniently placed Easy Button from Staples.

"Hey everyone!" Valjean called. "This factory is now under new management!" Valjean cried happily to the exhausted and annoyed factory workers. Instead of properly replying to him, the factory workers burst into song, which was now considered typical behavior in Jean Valjean's life.

"At the end of the day you're another day older. And that's all you can say for the life of the poor. It's a struggle; it's a war. And there's nothing that anyone's giving. One more day standing about, what is it for? One day less to be living." They sang in their various-pitched voices in perfect harmony. Valjean and Javert looked at each other. "This is better than the musical I'm going to have written about myself!" Valjean murmured, mesmerized by their stellar performance.

"At the end of the day you're another day colder

And the shirt on your back doesn't

keep out the chill  
And the righteous hurry past  
They don't hear the little ones crying  
And the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill  
One day nearer to dying!" They sang verse number two with a little bit of added drama. Javert was so excited internally that right in the middle of the verse he gave them a slow clap; the kind of slow clap that gradually builds to a thunderous applause. "Bravo! Bravo!" Javert blurted out in the middle of the performance. "The law would be proud!" When he said this, Valjean elbowed him in the gut so he could hear the performance.

"At the end of the day there's another day dawning  
And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise  
Like the waves crash on the sand  
Like a storm that'll break any second  
There's a hunger in the land  
There's a reckoning still to be reckoned and  
There's gonna be hell to pay  
At the end of the day!" When Valjean heard this verse he felt a small tear come to his eye. He wiped it up with a lacey handkerchief and tried to regain his composure. However, at the sight of Fantine and the foreman he simply lost it. "IT'S JUST TOO EMOTIONAL!" he sobbed, digging his face into Javert's shoulder. Javert pushed Valjean's head away and the cast of the factory looked at them for a moment and continued. The foreman came into the scene on cue, and Valjean released a loud "BOO!" So, the song came and went, and Valjean and Javert completely forgot why they were watching this stellar performance anyway. Valjean soon remembered the answer: world domination. He smiled and stood up in front of the performers.

"What is this shouting all about? Will someone tear these two apart? This is a factory not a circus!" He sang in perfect pitch. The cast looked at him confusingly, yet acceptingly. "Now come on ladies, settle down! I run a business of repute! I am the mayor of this town!" He smiled as he sang the last line. Mayor today, dictator tomorrow. "I look to you to solve this out and be as patient as you can!" he sang. Fantine and the jerk who accused her were still fighting, only now the chorus was singing in the background. The song was over, and the entire audience, which consisted of Javert, gave the performers a standing ovation.

"Bravo! The Law would approve greatly!" he exclaimed, giving the performers his highest compliment. They all bowed, except Fantine, who was upset about being fired. Valjean gave them a smile. Valjean and Javert walked away from the factory, wanting to put all of the steps of their plan into action.

"What's next on our 'Things to Conquer/Destroy' list?" Valjean asked Javert.

"Operation: Push the Cart." Javert replied. "Good name." Valjean commented, nodding.

_I know it's not my best work. Sorry, I was kind of uninspired. Sorry for ending it so abruptly. I also apologize for not updating sooner. As soon as I get inspired again I will try to post a new chapter every week or so. Please review to share ideas!_

_~Mushie_


	4. The Unknown Side Of Monsieur Javert

Disclaimer: I don't own les mis or The Salty Spittoon. That's from Spongebob.

_Previously in What Would Happen if Jean Valjean Became Evil…_

"_Bravo! The Law would approve greatly!" he exclaimed, giving the performers his highest compliment. They all bowed, except Fantine, who was upset about being fired. Valjean gave them a smile. Valjean and Javert walked away from the factory, wanting to put all of the steps of their plan into action._

"_What's next on our 'Things to Conquer/Destroy' list?" Valjean asked Javert._

"Operation: Push the Cart." Javert replied. "Good name." Valjean commented, nodding.

The Unknown Side Of Inspector Javert

"One Carmel Frappuccino for me, and a chocolate milk for my friend here, with a twirly straw." Valjean said to the teenage cashier at Starbucks. It was their next meeting place, a place to plot their revenge to the world, or to just have a nice Frappuccino. Valjean sipped his beverage nonchalantly, while Javert played with the whipped cream on top of his chocolate milk. "So, Master V," Javert said, still fascinated by his swirly straw. "What do we do now?" He wiped his milk moustache. Valjean pulled out a diagram that he and Javert made at their most recent slumber party.

"Let's see…go to the bar…blah, blah, blah…push the cart with the help of the bar guys…. yada, yada, yada… save the guy and act heroic, and create a theme song." Valjean said, scanning the diagram, Javert nodded.

"What are we waiting for? The Law does not wait!" He cried merrily, leaving his chocolate milk without paying. Finally, after a long hike and several failed hitchhiking attempts later, they reached their destination: The Salty Spittoon. It was the roughest, toughest bar in all of France, so tough that paramedics and animal control were always present. Valjean smirked at how out-of-place Javert would look in that bar.

"Let me do the talking." Valjean murmured to Javert as he opened the door. His eyes and throat burned from the overwhelming smoke.

"Attention! _ATTENTION!"_ Valjean screamed, drowned out by the deafening sounds of beer bottles shattering on the floor and large, rugged, tattooed men beating each other up with various weapons. Valjean sighed exasperatedly and tried a different approach. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Some men stopped and looked at him like they would rip his limbs off one by one. Valjean gulped and Javert stood in front of him.

"Greetings, comrades!" He exclaimed. The scary guys' faces lit up.

"Jav! How are ya'?" They smiled and patted him on the back. Valjean turned red. _Jav? _Who called him _JAV? He _was the only one who could give him a nickname!

"My brudda and ah' were goin' t'push some cart waaay down some hill. Right On! Ya' get what I'm sayin'? Ya pickin' up what I'm puttin' down? Ya catch my drift? CAN YOU DIG IT?" Valjean looked impressed. He never knew Javert spoke jive.

"WE CAN DIG IT!" The crowd roared. A bartender gave him a beer. Javert took a sip. "What are you doing?" Valjean asked, bewildered. "What about the Law?"

"The Law allows for fun once in a while!" Javert cried, asking for another beer. Soon he had another. And another. And another. He lost track of how many he'd had. Valjean began to forget why he was in the Salty Spittoon in the first place. He looked up, and there was Javert, dancing and singing on the mahogany table. He was doing the Funky Chicken. A shiver went through Valjean's body. No one should have that image in his or her heads. He tried pulling Javert off of the stage, but before he could, Javert dove into the crowd. Luckily, the men were strong enough to keep him up. A large, tan man gave Valjean a dirty look. "Why ya' takin' Jav away, mon?" He asked. Valjean scanned him. He had a tattoo of the Sistine Chapel on his arm. Some people were weird. Valjean dragged Javert away from the crowd. Javert waved giddily to the men.

"Everybody raise a glass to the master of the house!" The men sang, a little off pitch. "Buh-bye!" Javert chirped. Valjean smiled and rolled his eyes. Javert stood up with assistance from Valjean. "Thansh, budd-ay!" he said groggily to Valjean, his voice slurred. Suddenly the ground started quaking. Several large, stocky men erupted out of the bar. "We ready fo' the shizzle, yo." One of the guys said with a straight face. Valjean looked at him curiously. He didn't speak jive.

"Okay, team! Here's what we have to do: build an extremely heavy cart, push it down hill at the EXACT angle so it hits an innocent bystander, rush down the hill and appear just in time to lift the cart from the man." Valjean explained. The men scampered off in different directions and came back a short while later wearing hardhats and tool belts. "It's fun to stay at the YMCA!!!" They sang in unison.

"Guys, save your voices for after we save the victim!" Valjean suggested. They nodded and began hammering away. After a few hours and lots of hitting each other with nails and hammers, the homemade cart was finished. The wheels clu-clunked as they slowly and tenaciously pushed the cart up the hill. Javert sat in it, since he couldn't walk.

"Ready?" Valjean asked the group of men, including the one with the Sistine Chapel tattoo. They nodded gruffly. "Three…. two…one!" They remembered to lift Javert off the cart before they shoved it. It rolled down the hill, gaining velocity, until it struck a guy with a pistachio ice cream cone. It went flying into the air as the cart hit his leg with a sickening crack. Valjean looked to the cart. _PISTACHIO!!!_ He raced toward the ice cream, forgetting about the cart. He dove matrix-style to the ice cream and caught the waffle cone in his palm. Everyone raced to the cart.

"Help me!!!" The man cried, wincing in pain. Valjean gave Sistine Chapel Man a microphone and cue card. "The mayor is rescuing a man pinned under a cart." He read, annunciating into the microphone. "Louder!" Valjean hissed, sweating and struggling to pick up the cart that he made a little _too _heavy.

"THE MAYOR IS RESCUING A MAN PINNED UNDER A CART!" he screamed. Valjean smiled for the paparazzi that swarmed around the scene. He lifted the cart up and the man slithered away. Javert looked more cold and alert now. "Well done, Monsieur Madeleine." He said sternly, giving Valjean a subtle wink. He flashed him a pearly-white smile. Sistine Chapel Man gave him a cloth to wipe the sweat off his face. Javert pulled Valjean away for a moment.

"The moron cops at the station just arrested Jean Valjean!" he hissed into Valjean's ear nervously. "So what should we do about it?" he asked, not seeming to care whatsoever about doing the right thing. "Break out into song?" Javert suggested. Valjean nodded eagerly. He didn't know Sistine Chapel Man played the bass violin, but he started to play.

"He thinks that man is me, he knew him at a glance. That stranger he has found, this man could be my chance. Why should I save his hide? Why should I right this wrong? When I have come so far and struggled for so long? If I speak, I am condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned! I am the master of hundreds of workers. They all look to me! Can I abandon them? How will they live if I am not free? If I speak I am condemned. If I stay silent I am damned!" He repeated the last line for emphasis. Javert squealed with delight. He loved Valjean's performances; they were so enchanting. He watched with awe.

"Who am I? Can I conceal myself forever more? Pretend I'm not the man I was before? And must my name until I die be no more than an alibi? Must I lie?" He continued to sing. "Of course I can!" he chuckled. "No way I'm goin' back to the slammer!" He cried joyously.

"Right on, Master V!" Javert exclaimed. They performed one of their signature guy-hugs. The two friends linked arms and padded off into the sunset, ready for their next task and whatever it was to bring.

_Did you like it? I must say I am happy with it. Sorry if it was confusing, I brainstormed a lot of ideas all at once. Don't forget to review!!!_

_~Mushie_


	5. The Third Member Of The Trio

_Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis or any of the songs_

* * *

_Previously in What Would Happen if Jean Valjean Became Evil…._

"_Who am I? Can I conceal myself forever more? Pretend I'm not the man I was before? And must my name until I die be no more than an alibi? Must I lie?" He continued to sing. "Of course I can!" he chuckled. "No way I'm goin' back to the slammer!" He cried joyously._

"_Right on, Master V!" Javert exclaimed. They performed one of their signature guy-hugs. The two friends linked arms and padded off into the sunset, ready for their next task and whatever it was to bring._

* * *

Chapter 5

"Bye!" The bar men all left the scene and headed toward the Salty Spittoon. It was Happy Hour, and they couldn't bear to miss it. Surprisingly, Sistine Chapel Man stayed with them. "I wanna join yo' gang." He mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed.

Valjean grinned. "Welcome aboard, buckaroo!" he cheered and gave him a playful punch on his hard bicep. Valjean winced in pain as his hand began to throb. It really WAS hard! Javert looked at them with his usual cold expression. "The Law approves." He nodded.

"So, what's your name?" Valjean asked.

"They call me Brutus." He said, flexing his bicep, which made his Sistine Chapel tattoo dance. Javert forced his lips into a smile. That was impressive.

"What are we doing next?" Javert asked, a cold glint in his eyes.

"We're going to sneak into the hospital, and steal Fantine's daughter, then throw her into a pack of carnivorous wolves!" Valjean exclaimed. Javert nodded.

"How will we get there?" Javert inquired, thinking a little too much into this plan.

"We can take my wheels." Brutus said happily. Valjean and Javert nodded.

"Can I get another ice cream first?" Valjean asked.

Ding! The door bell rang as the three men stepped inside the ice cream parlor. There was a jukebox on the right wall playing oldies tunes. Javert hummed softly and tapped his foot to the beat. Valjean strutted up to the counter, his posse following behind him.

"I'll have…. a pistachio sundae, with…. rainbow sprinkles, cookie dough, and…chocolate chips. On a waffle cone." He licked his chops and resisted the urge to start drooling

.

Javert stood beside Valjean. "The Law permits that I order a…vanilla…with…pecans. And walnuts." Javert ordered, giving the cashier a stern nod. Now, Brutus stood at the counter. "Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears!" He began.

"I am SO not getting paid enough to do this." The cashier, a young teenage boy muttered, looking at the dynamic trio.

"I want a chocolate. Wit' sprinkles. Ya' catch my drift? Ya' pickin' up what I'm puttin' down? CAN YOU DIG IT?" Brutus roared enthusiastically into the cashier's face. "I CAN DIG IT!" Valjean and Javert exclaimed behind him.

"Um………that'll be 5.95…." the scared cashier mumbled, pressing some buttons on a cash register. He put his finger on the "Call Security" button and hesitated. He lifted his finger after thinking a while.

"Thank you, my good man!" Valjean exclaimed to the cashier. He gave the cashier a subtle wink and grabbed his frozen treat. They sat down in a leathery booth by the window. They devoured their delights quickly, eating in silence except for the occasional "ooh..," or "mmmm…" they moaned when they tasted something savory.

"BRAIN FREEZE!!!!" Valjean screamed so loud it shook the little parlor. Javert covered his ears. "The Law's ear drums are shattering!" Javert exclaimed angrily to Valjean. "Cold! Cold! Cold!" Valjean pounded his fists on the table. Brutus rolled his eyes and whacked Jean on the back. He stopped crying instantly. "We should get goin'" Brutus said, standing up. Javert nodded. "The Law waits for no one." Javert stood up and brushed the dust off his tidy uniform.

"Farewell, citizens!" Valjean said, waving to the other customers as he stood in the doorway.

"Lemme' go get my wheels." Brutus said, walking out of the parlor.

* * *

"_Those_ are your wheels?" Valjean made a disgusted face at Brutus' ride. It definitely wasn't a motorcycle. Valjean and Javert stood in awe at the hot pink tricycle with streamers on the handlebars and a bell. A red metal wagon was attached to the back of it, allowing more than one passenger to ride

.

"No way. No way I am riding that." Valjean shook his head. "I have a reputation to protect." He protested, crossing his arms.

"The Law does not approve!" Javert cried.

"Well, its the only thing we got." Brutus said. "Hop on."

_Ring! Ring! _ Brutus rang the bell as he sped through the streets of Paris. "OUTTA MY WAY! OUTTA MY WAY!" he called as he raced down the cobblestone pathways.

"Wheeee!" Javert cried as the wind whipped his long, brown ponytail. "I feel like a robin in flight!"

"HOW FAST ARE WE GOING?" Valjean cried against the roaring wind.

"I dunno bro, like seventy-five? WOO!" Brutus cried. "Oh, man it's the fuzz!" He cried, watching a swarm of policemen trailing behind the speeding tricycle.

"ALMOST THERE!" Brutus cried. They actually crashed into the wall of the hospital. "That shall leave a mark." Javert concluded, examining the dent they made in the hospital wall. They parked their tricycle and wagon and opened the doors of the hospital. Their footsteps echoed around the vacant hallways as they strode in-step. They stopped when they found the room they were looking for: Fantine's room.

Valjean stepped inside, followed by Javert and Brutus. Valjean tried to put a soothing expression on his face as he knelt beside her. She jerked upright instantly. "COSETTE, IT'S TURNED SO COLD! COSETTE, IT'S PAST YOUR BEDTIME! YOU'VE PLAYED THE DAY AWAY AND SOON IT WILL BE NIGHT!" Fan tine sang as loud as she possibly could. Valjean had to cover his ears. What was going on?"

COME TO ME, COSETTE, THE LIGHT IS FADING!" She sang to the wall, staring at nothing in particular.

"What is happening? What are you looking at? Hello? What are you looking at? I don't see anything!" Valjean cried, trying to get her attention. "Don't you see, the evening star appearing? Come to me and rest against my shoulder! How fast the minutes fly away and every minute colder!" Valjean looked at her strangely. She had stopped singing

.

"Well, that was odd…" Valjean muttered to Javert. Javert looked at him and he understood. It was his turn for a solo.

"Oh, Fan tine! Our time is running out! But Fan tine, I swear this on my life!"

"Look, Monsieur, where all the children play!" Fan tine interrupted, staring at the wall again. "Be quiet and let me sing!" Valjean whispered to her. "Oh, um, I mean…be at peace! Be at peace evermore!" he saved himself.

"My Cosette…" She looked pale now, as if her face was sinking into the pillow.

"Will live in my protection." Valjean lied, stroking her short hair to make himself look extra convincing.

"Take her now…" She pleaded, the lights in her eyes dimming.

"Your child will want for nothing." He promised, thinking of how he was going to feed her to a pack of mountain lions.

"Good Monsieur, you come from God in Heaven!" she murmured.

"And none will ever harm Cosette as long as I am living."

"Except some wolves." Brutus snickered to Javert, who smiled coldly.

"Take my hand, the night grows ever colder." Fan tine whispered.

"Um, can't you just die without all this drama?" Valjean asked, getting sick of being nice and promising.

"AND TELL COSETTE I LOVE HER AND I'LL SEE HER WHEN I WAAAAAAAAAKE!" Fan tine cried. "And now…I…die… " She said, adding in extra drama. She made some dramatic gasping noises and began flailing like a fish on a dock. Too bad if she won an Oscar she wouldn't be alive to accept it.

"That was easy." Valjean stood up and exited the room, Brutus and Javert following behind him. They left the hospital and stood outside.

"Now…. how to get a pack of wolves?" Valjean asked. Javert and Brutus looked puzzled. This was going to be much harder than they'd planned.

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